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May 2014
Across the Savannah we sailed
Floating through the slipstream
Of desire.
Higher we rose, to thorny heights.
Embraced by wings
Of fire.
A kingdom freely given turns to rust
Citadel walls fall in blizzards of dust.
The air is displaced by talons
That grip from ankle to throat.
Clawing and scratching,
A  noose,
A rope.

Upon the steppe I lay,
Impaled upon your
Tree of pain.
Barbed through the heart,
Saved for a rainy day.
Rob Rutledge
Written by
Rob Rutledge
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